The League of Skull & Bones
The League of Skull & Bones
by
MJ Fletcher
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The League of Skull & Bones
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2013 MJ Fletcher
Cover design by Marc Fletcher
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http://www.mjfletcher.net/
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Acknowledgments
I wanted to take a moment and thank all of the people who helped me while writing and editing League of Skull & Bones. My mom, Donna Fletcher for all her advice and help. My wife, Alisande, for being my first reader and listening to me drone on for hours about my characters. My spectacular reader girls; Kelly Hennessy, Jennifer Treece and Angela Weimer, for their time and helpfulness.
Table of Contents
The League of Skull & Bones
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
MJ Fletcher Book List
About the Author
Prologue
I wasn’t alone in the dark.
Snarls and growls surrounded me, running my blood cold. I moved my head from side to side, scrunching my eyes, trying desperately to catch sight of the beasts before they reached me. My crimson swords weighed so heavily in my hands that I felt as if I’d been fighting for what seemed like eternity.
Claws and fangs suddenly slashed out from the darkness, and I did my best to defend myself, though in my heart I knew it was a losing battle. The beasts were overpowering me and soon I wouldn’t be able to stop them. No one was coming to save me. I was alone.
Talons slashed across my back and warm blood trickled down as pain shot across my spine. I stumbled and the beasts—I was sure—tasted victory. They moved in at me in waves. I spun my blades, trying to battle the never-ending tide, trying to survive.
It was hopeless. For every monster I took down, another two took its place. I wanted to live, I wanted to fight, but the agonizing pain of my flesh being torn and sliced was too great to bear. I couldn’t go on. The jaws of one of the beasts clamped on my wrist and I lost my grip on one of my swords. It fell from my hand and clattered to the ground and with it went my last vestige of hope.
Blood drained from my body and my vision faded. I would soon black out, and then the beasts would feast on me. A scream bubbled in my throat and my mouth fell open, but no sounds came out. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see my own death, and hoped that darkness would take me before the beasts did.
I bolted out of bed, my mouth still open in a silent scream, and my sheets tangled around me and soaked with sweat. I stood at the foot of my bed, my breathing coming in ragged gasps.
The nightmares came almost every night. I couldn’t escape them no matter how hard I tried. I yanked at the sheets, dragging them off me and tossing them back onto the bed.
I’d worn only an old t-shirt to bed, though now I wished I had worn more. I didn’t want to see my scars, didn’t want to be reminded yet again, but I couldn’t stop my fingers from tracing over the ugly scars that marked my arms and upper torso.
I walked from the top floor of my loft, down the stainless steel steps to the kitchenette. I yanked open the fridge and grabbed the container of milk and took a gulp. I placed it back in the fridge and slammed the door closed. I slipped down onto the couch that faced the large windows dotting the walls of my loft and sighed at the breathtaking view of Paris. It always calmed me.
My fingers mindlessly drifted over the scars on my arms. They were a reminder of the very real night I had been trapped in a nearly unwinnable fight. Monsters had surrounded me and had almost killed me. If it hadn’t been for my friends, I would have died.
But I hadn’t died. Or had I? I was far from the girl I had once been. Once I was the prettiest girl in school, and the girl who had hit every club and had had a blast when she had moved to Paris. But after the vicious attack everything had changed, most of all me.
My fingers suddenly stopped, settling on the edges of identical tattoos on both my forearms. I glanced down at the image of a Skeleton Key. My scars refused to cross paths with the tattoos, as if they knew that they dared not go near them.
I slid my finger over the tattoo and felt a buzz of power run through me. These unwanted tattoos were another reminder of something else entirely. But unlike my scars, I had chosen these.
The monsters may not have gotten me, but these tattoos were a different matter. They marked me for death.
I pulled my knees up against my chest and took a deep breath. Maybe I would wait here until dawn. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about any more nightmares or death that constantly stalked me.
I sat alone in the dark looking out on the City of Lights, awaiting the dawn and praying that I could keep death at bay and that I wouldn’t hear the sound of monsters.
Chapter 1
Darkness clung stubbornly to the street. Old light posts dotted both sides, giving off only the barest of glows, like stars splashed across the night sky. The houses that ran down both sides stood as old sentinels in quiet disrepair. Most were at least three stories and at one time must have been beautiful to behold. Several were brick and mortar with tall front stoops and low black metal gates that guarded tiny, front gardens. I stood at the end of the street admiring the aged houses while I waited.
If my informant was right, then this was the place I needed to be, but it wasn’t the best of neighborhoods. At the far end of the street a group of young men strolled in and out of the darkness. They spotted me in the distance and pointed in my direction. The looks they gave me did not bode well.
“Great, that’s all I need,” I said aloud.
They made their way toward me in cocky strides that demonstrated their misplaced confidence. They spoke loudly, making sure I could hear them as they debated on why a pretty girl like
me shouldn’t be out alone in this questionable neighborhood.
I raised my arm and pulled back my sleeve to reveal a leather bracelet. I unsnapped the buttons on it and lifted it. The watch it contained spun its multiple hands in unison through a set of gears with numbers and star configurations. A regular person would have been lost trying to read it, but to me it made perfect sense. It meant I still had a few minutes to wait.
They’d finally reached me, stopping a few feet away; snickering, laughing, and bumping shoulders. Only one stepped forward. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket. His hair was slicked back and he was taller than the others.
“What are you doing on our block?” slick-backed hair demanded.
“Leave now,” I warned.
“Who do you think you’re talking to, chick?” He lifted his arms to quiet down the laughs and snickers from the crowd behind him.
“The boy whose ass I am going to kick up and down this street if he doesn’t leave now.”
His lips turned up in a snarl. “This is—”
I didn’t have time for this. I stepped forward, launching my fist and connecting with a solid punch to his cheek. He stumbled away from me shocked by the blow and fought to stay on his feet.
The other thugs with him reacted quickly. They slipped their hands into pockets or around chains hanging from their necks. They were reaching for their devices.
The fools had no idea who they were dealing with.
“You bitch. You hit me!”
Slick-backed hair had recovered enough to talk. He approached me, rubbing his hand over his face and wincing when he connected with the already sizable and darkening purple bruise that I’d given him.
“I’m warning you to leave or I’ll do a lot worse.”
He lifted the chain on his chest and tore a Skeleton Key from it. A crimson glow surrounded the Key and slowly enveloped his hands. A wicked smiled spread across his face as he activated his abilities.
“Nice trick.” I kinked my neck and cracked my knuckles. “My turn.”
His smile disappeared, sweat popped out along his brow, and he stared at me as if shocked that I wasn’t quivering in fear in front of him. He was about to get a bigger shock. I spun on my front foot and brought my other leg around launching a kick into his gut that doubled him over. I reached out, grabbing a handful of hair on top of his head and brought my knee up right into his face. He moaned, a pitiful sound, and dropped to his knees. His Skeleton Key fell from his hand and clanked on the street.
I leaned down and grabbed the Key, flipping it in my hand as his friends watched me.
“Would anyone else like to try me?”
“Who the hell are you?” one of them asked.
“Jessica Grimm.”
Recognition sent them stumbling over each other as they hurried to get away from me while two brave souls rushed forward, grabbing their friend and helping him to his feet.
“We’re sorry, Ms. Grimm,” one apologized, “we didn’t know it was you.”
“Leave now,” I said.
“Can I have his Key back?” one asked.
I lifted the Key in my hand and a burst of crimson energy went off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. The Key dissolved in my hand, the dust floating away between my fingers.
“What are you?” one asked shaking his head as if he didn’t really want to know and took off to hurry and catch up with his cohorts in crime.
A good question. I’m Old Kind, a species of humans that can access the energy of the Universe. It makes for great party tricks, like opening portals to other dimensions or creating solid objects like a sword or axe to use against your opponent.
Most Old Kind, like these fools, need a vessel like the Skeleton Key to focus their powers and use them. And all of them are a bit different in what they can do, but they break down like this; the Doorknob Society is adept at traveling through dimensions, the Mapmakers Union is proficient in making maps of the various dimensions and Universe for everyone else, the Impossible Engineers can design and build about anything you can imagine from jetpacks to a mobile phone that works in multiple dimensions, and the Honorable and Venerable Order of Detective Inspectors are all about law and order and keeping everyone else in line. Then, of course, there is my Society the Skeleton Key Guild, the bad apple of the bunch if you were to listen to anyone else. The Guild is great at locking dimensions and also doing the dirty work of all Old Kind.
I kicked at the dust on the street that was left from the Skeleton Key. The punks were annoying, but they were right—I am something different.
My life changed about a year ago when a crazy group, calling themselves the First Kind, tried to destroy the Old Kind. They were using Artifacts specific to each of the Old Kind societies, including a very powerful Skeleton Key Guild one that also happened to be linked to my father. When he died and the bad guys tried to attach it to another family member, my cousin, I didn’t let that happen.
I scratched at the sleeves covering my forearms. Underneath them were Skeleton Key tattoos that had appeared on my body as I became the Artifact. We’d won that war, but it had come with a cost. Death took a nip at me every time I used my power.
That little display of energy I had just used on those punks had pushed me one step closer to being burned out by the power of the Artifact.
I positioned myself by one of the lamp posts and waited yet again.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I sensed a portal being created nearby. In the center of the street a dark spot appeared and suddenly turned green, then just as quickly was replaced by a metal strip. It unfolded, pointing pieces upward while a set of gears rolled out of the street and rolled one over the other, creating a doorway one strip at a time. It took a moment, but soon enough the door was complete and it swung open and out stepped a mountain of a man.
“Hi Jess,” Michael Slade said.
He smiled, his usual perfect grin, at me and began pressing points on the door to make it collapse. Built like a football player, thick and muscular, Slade wore a Henley shirt that demonstrated just that. It stretched across him like a piece of plastic wrap about to snap. He wore his chestnut brown hair closely cropped and he sported a few days growth of beard. He was a guy most girls would die over to date, but to me he was a close friend.
“New toy?” I asked motioning to the door that had now become no larger than a credit card, and he slipped it into his pocket.
“Something I’m perfecting for the Impossible Engineers so we don’t always have to rely on other Societies for transport. It doesn’t have the range that you would be able to handle, and it can only take a certain amount of coordinates. But it works.” He smiled happy with himself.
I patted him on the arm. “Great job.”
“Thanks, so what are we up too?” Slade asked.
“One of my informants tells me that an Impossible Engineer acquired a Timelock.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very,” I said.
I’d been looking for a Timelock ever since I had been bonded to the Artifact. A Timelock is an Impossible Engineer device that slows the progression of time on anything it is attached too. It would be the only thing that could stop the Artifact from burning me out and killing me.
“They’re illegal. How did he come by one?”
“I don’t know. There are plenty of black market dealers at the Diesel Factories or the Dying Star Markets. I’m not sure how he did it, but we’re sure as hell going to find out.”
“Does the Council know about him?”
The Council of the Old Kind was the governing body of our species and had gained more power since the war had decimated our ranks. Slade and I had been working for them as one of their special teams to hunt down criminals.
“I sent a message to them that we’d be bringing him in,” I said.
“Okay what’s the plan?”
“I say we go for the straight ahead approach and knock on the door.” I winked. Slade laughed
and followed me.
We walked up the front stoop of the brownstone in front of us. The door was oak with a set of three small glass windows. I grasped the brass door knocker and slammed it against the knock plate. The sound of shuffling footsteps echoed from behind the door. Then the knob turned with a click and the door swung open.
The man was short with grey tufts of hair poking out from around his ears. His face was creased with lines and his bushy eyebrows looked as though caterpillars had taken up residence on his forehead.
“What do you want?” he croaked.
“Are you Smidgeon Guile?” I asked with my sweetest grin.
“None of your business. Now get off my stoop.”
“That’s no way to talk to a lady, Smidgeon.” Slade spoke up behind me.
The little man lifted himself up on the tips of his toes and looked over my shoulder at Slade. “That you, Slade?” he asked scratching at the back of his neck. “I thought you were humans. Now what the hell do you want?”
“We’re working for the Council,” Slade replied.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and we heard you might have come into possession of a rather special object.” I cut in, wanting to get to the bottom of this quickly.
“You heard wrong, now leave.” He turned and slammed the door.
I moved quickly, my hand shooting out and grabbing it before he could close it, then I dropped my voice to a threatening whisper. “We’re done when I say so.”
“You don’t want to start with me, girl,” he warned just as threateningly.
Smidgeon had one hand on the door and reached into his pants pocket with the other. I had fought plenty of Impossible Engineers over the years, and I had learned it was never a good idea to let them get their hands on something. So I didn’t hesitate.
I leaned my shoulder against the door and shoved with all my strength, pushing Smidgeon off balance. He stumbled backwards and his eyes widened in shock. Most Old Kind expected a full on assault with powers. But since the Artifact was burning me out with each use, I had to come up with some different solutions for the little things.
I pounced on Smidgeon, grabbing his hand before he had time to take whatever he had hold of out of his pocket. He struggled against me and even though he was older, he was strong. I wouldn’t be able to hold him for long.